


Crowds, Crannies, and Closets

by AilemaJSix



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Butts, Determination, F/M, Groping, Humor, Shameless, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AilemaJSix/pseuds/AilemaJSix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly, certain anatomy has it's appeal...especially when it's forbidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowds, Crannies, and Closets

**Author's Note:**

> For Freddycoconut, and their posting of SanSan comics. They were the inspiration.

The Hound turned the corner of the hall, making his rounds around the castle to secure the safety of the lords and ladies of the Red Keep. In the torch light, he saw a wench bent over as she was picking up several items off the ground. He stopped, the woman not at all aware of her actions or his presences. She seemed to be taking her sweet time, and her perfect round bottom went side to side her movements took her.

Not one to normally stop to enjoy a view, Sandor felt a little leisurely.

And then felt a gigantic weight of shame as she stood to full height, her auburn Tully locks cascading back into place. Not a wench, a lady he mused. She continued down the hall, never noticing the towering figure that just ogled her every detail.

>:3

He felt foolish. It seemed since that very moment in the hall where he gazed at her perfect little butt, he was cursed. His small interest in keep the girl safe had bloomed into an obsession with watching her whenever he could without repercussion. Resisting to touch had become nearly impossible. Sometimes under the pretense of doing something for Joffery, like taking her to her chambers, he was able to be close enough to smell her.

Like right now.

Sandor stood behind Sansa beside Joffery. She stood while the king sat, watching the people of the court dancing. It was very warm, and she was wearing a light gown, nothing like the one she normally wore. Her hair was swept up in his least favorite hair styles. The style of the southern ladies in the court. He wished to take out the braids and unravel the twists. With her hair up though, there was one benefit: he had a view of the slope of her back. If he was daring enough, and leaned forward a little, he could see down her dress just a little. his hand twitched with this thought. Within your reach, he smiled to himself.

Joffery was staring at the dancers bored, and Sandor was always apprehensive of that. It could mean him turning to other tactics for entertainment, such as the little bird. A drunken lord stumbled onto the floor promptly, and Joffery was once again enthralled with the prospects. 

Again his attention went to the maiden before him. He bit the inside of his cheek in resistance to his thought.

Joffery, and the kingsguard for that matter, were all quite distracted with whatever commotion was going on. Sansa stood still though, but seemed to be relaxing visibly. She shifted though as if to catch a gaze of the man behind her. He could no longer contain himself.

Sandor reached outed and grazed his finger against the small of her back. She stiffened, but only for a moment. The little bird stayed in place, and boldly Sandor slid his fingers down and grasped the globe of her ass. He squeezed it and he saw her bite her bottom lip, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Sansa leaned into his grasp, and he gulped.

The room started to settle, and he retracted his hand before Joffery returned to his seat.

>:3  
He was exhausted.

Standing in a shadowed corner of a hall he stood still propped up against the wall. No one would be able to see him under these circumstances, and it gave him a moment to power nap. He had been drinking a little more heavily after his rounds, and waking up a little too early.

Bronn accused him of hiding soemthing. Now he was literally hiding himself.

There was a delicate pitter patter of steps, a woman’s foot falls. Sandor presumed it was a wench. Again he was wrong. Her arms were full of various fabrics, and she slipped into an open door and then back out after a moment unburdened. Heading towards her were the steps and voices of two very undesired presences: Boros and Meryn. The door she had come from had been closed, and the hall was long.

Sandor sighed, and stepped from the darkness of the nook startling her. She looked surprised, but did not oppose him when he pulled her in close. He pressed her against the wall face forward, and stood with her facing the wall. His black cloak would add to the illusion of nothing being there, and shroud her if someone were to notice him at all.

The footsteps of the men continued, and they laughed at crude jokes. Sandor’s eyes adjusted to the darkness before him though, and noticed that Sansa had her hand against the wall to brace herself. His own mirrored the position, and he became horribly aware just how close she was to him. She smelled wonderfully like roses and vanilla, and her breathing was steady and even.

The auburn steadied her posture with her hips swaying just slightly, and her hair bobbing in that hideous hair style. His breath stilled, feeling the movement of her hips, and without a second thought his hands met her hips. Grinding against her lightly his breath returned, and tightened his grip realising her waist is so small that his fingers were close to meeting.

A sound escaped her lips.

He disregarded it, and continued his subtle grind against her as his hands groped her hips. She moaned this time, much louder. The kingsguard were long since gone, but he was startled by her omission.

Releasing her, he left Sansa against the dark wall as he made his way down the hall.

>:3  
Sansa stared out at the dinner guests with disdain. She did not blame them for Joffery's actions, but it was getting to the point where she hated them anyway. They watched her like she had done something wrong. Like she was at fault. No one sat near her any more, they practically scooted away when seated, and bunched up at the other end of the table to get away from her plaguing presences.

She sighed, poking her food around her plate, food having lost it’s appeal after the first two courses. Her eyes were drawn to the head of the feast, where Joffery and Cersei sat on a platform, accompanied by others. The Hound was there too.

Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. Often she recalled what he had done to her. His blatant groping, giving of his cape to her when she was stripped...the feel of his hard body pressed against hers in the hallway shadows. It sent a thrill through her dulled mind. If there was one thing that brought her any pleasure, it was the way that he wanted her.

Sandor seemed like he was trying to hold back, which only served to charm her more in the end. Though his truths were often crude, his actions towards her her never harmful or uncomfortable. And his eyes, the way he stared at her like it was only the two of them, and there was not an entire room full of people around them.

The funny thing to her is, he seemed afraid. She realized later that it was her own moan that had stopped him.

With that last thought she decided to leave the feast. She was certain no one would notice at this point with their level of intoxication. She slipped out the door and started down the hall. There were guards here and there, but none made a motion to stop her from where she was going. She was almost at her hall when she heard heavy footfalls in the distance from a neighboring hall.

Turning the corner, she saw the Hound approaching her, and she covered her mouth to steady her breathing. She felt a rush of excitement hit her, but could not think of a good enough conversation to start with the man. She decided to keep walking towards her room, but at a slower pace.

His strides had always been long, and he rounded the corner before she reached her room. “Little bird, returning to your cage so soon this evening?”

“Y-yes, I grew tired, and no longer found the food appetizing,” she spoke playing the scared little bird, knowing how he seemed to enjoy her fear of him. She pressed her lips tightly together to resist letting a smile spread on her lips too broadly, lest she drew too much attention.

He approached her, and lifted her chin up between his thumb and forefinger. Their eyes met, but she kept her breath steady as he studied her form. Part of her wanted to catch him off guard, but she was too curious to know what he wanted. “You haven’t been eating very much,” was all he said.

It was a small wonder as to how he knew that.

“My thoughts seemed to be elsewhere as of late, and I find that my appetite left with it.”

“So honest tonight little bird, care to share your thoughts?”

“Only shameful and traitorous thoughts” she whispered just loud enough for him. His expression hardened, and he put his hands against the wall on either side of her.

“You shouldn’t say such dangerous things, the wrong ear could hear them,” he towered over her, and he breathed in deeply as if to catch her scent. her eyes went wide at his bold action, but he saw it only as fear to his intimidating tactics.

Sansa gulped, “only your ears seem to be near though, so unless there are others around that I just cannot simply see…” she stood a little taller, and a little closer to him.

“Are we a wolf tonight, and not a bird? You show fear, but you aren’t standing down like you usually would.”

“It has been long since you have last incited any fear from me ser.”

Her stare did not relent when his expression twisted into frustration from her declaration and use of ser. He gripped her shoulders and shook her a little in hopes her becoming afraid, “do not call me ser! You know better than that foolish girl.” He was seething in annoyance of her, but did not release his grip on her.

“Sandor, if you are going to attempt to tease a wolf, you can’t be mad when the wolf nips you back. Would you rather I remain toothless? I’m sure that would be hardly a challenge for a man of you calibre. Perhaps you want me to speak not at all so that you can fondle me without any chance of being caught.”

His jaw dropped at her accusation, and he stood motionless for several moments. She stood smug at his reaction. “What are you waiting for, get on with it.”

He almost ran down the hall, a deep blush having bloomed on his cheeks.

>:3  
Foolish did not cover it. Idiotic did not cover it.

Sandor felt shame. Shame not for his actions, but for having prodded and intimidated the woman so much that she finally got fed up. He had become her outlet to assert power, and he lost his outlet to vent any verbal frustration. The game became two players, and now they had to battle for power over each other.

After the humiliation of last night, he had to fetch her the following morning for court. He stood in the doorway after a handmaiden had opened the door. He could hear the shuffle of cloth stop, and was surprised when Sansa looked around the corner of her bedroom area, “What are you here for?”

So much for her courtesies.

“I’ve come to escort you to court this morning.”

If she was not going to use hers, than to hell with any of his.

“You’ll have to wait,” she said, and he could hear the busy sounds of fabric shifting and hush of her hair being pinned. After some time she finally stepped out fully dressed in a blue gown with front ties and her hair down for once. Delicately she picked up a blueberry and ate it, and then went to Sandor’s side for him to escort her to the Great Hall.

The court went by in a boring fashion, but fortunately for Sansa there had been no news from her brother. She stood differently it seemed, and he could not help but notice. It seemed like having made a fool of me last night has given the poor girl a bit of confidence. She stood by like normal, and he could not help but feel she seemed even more enticing. 

Court eventually ended with lords and ladies filing out of the hall. “Hound!” Joffery called out, “take dear Sansa back to her room, I do not wish to view her any longer.” The Hound took motion, and gripped her by the arm and guided her out of the hall. After rounding a few corners his grip lessened immensely, and they walked side by side in silence. 

The walk seemed longer than usual though, and Sansa was pretty sure he took a wrong turn. She was pretty sure bringing up his wrong turn would be a bad idea. He suddenly opened a door and pulled both of them inside.

“Sandor, what is the meaning of this? I have things to do, and there is so little room in here…”

“What, now we’re shy?”

She was pinned to wall by his body, and the only light being emitted was that seeping through the cracks of the shabby wooden door. His hands slid down wall onto her shoulders, and from there they found their way down her body as he started to kneel before her. “Stop it! What...what are you doing?” Even though her words protested, she looked down in keen interest as his hands were now making their way up her legs while lifting her dress. He dipped his head forward and started to place kisses on her inner thighs. She found herself leaning into the wall involuntarily giving him further access. “Oh!”

He untied her small clothes, and in her fascination with his actions she had no thought to protest his forward actions. Without expecting what he was doing, Sansa covered her face with her sleeve, utterly embarrassed at the enjoyment of his mouth on her most intimate place. “M-maybe I have time after all for you…” her words started to drift off as a moan attempted to escape her. Her arms went back to brace her body when he nudged one of her legs around his shoulder, allowing him to gain a firm grip on her ass.

Sansa’s heavy breathing filled the small closet as Sandor worked away on her most intimate spot. She choked back moans, but lost herself when he started sucking on her pearl. Her fingers eagerly wove into his hair, and he continued to bring her closer.

She felt her lip bleed as she bit into suppress a scream as his single finger entered her, and continued his oral torcher on her. His tongue laved her fluids, and Sansa could only grip his hair tighter. As sudden as the encounter began, she reached her climax, panting wildly from the experience. He dropped the skirts of her dress, having stolen away her small clothes, and stood back up.

She could not read his expression, but before she had time he left the closet only stand outside the door. Sansa stood silently for a few moments, only trying to even out her breathing, but it became difficult. She was feeling immense shame.

Shame that came from having loved everything that just happened to her.

**Author's Note:**

> http://freddycoconut.tumblr.com/image/59666149486


End file.
